“Amnesia” by Aneesa Davenport
My favorite soap opera was canceled today. My
cherished character killed off with pills.
She and I had weathered so much together,
such sweet loves, such deep losses, so many
comas, climaxes, heiresses, estate taxes.
We had mono together. We were laid up for weeks,
wondering whose spit carried the crux of this script.
And that winter when I sank swanlike through the ice,
and woke at Easter with amnesia, she tended me daily,
kept accounts of my affairs, nursed my memory with flashcards:
“Loyalty,” a card said. “Family,” she read.
She tested me, and I know I tested her: “Patience,”
she repeated. “Attention,” she mouthed. “Television.”
I tried to reassemble her family tree. Started at
Season One but couldn’t keep track of each degree.
Harold is to Georgia as Luke is to Ashleigh.
Ashleigh is to Walker as Marian is to Marshall.
_________ is to _________ as _________ is to _________?
I was anchorless; its timeslot filled by Dr. Phil. He slapped me
to snap me out of it; wouldn’t consider my appeal. Instead
he scrunched his eyes and stuck his fingers in his ears
and chanted to himself, “Get real, get real, get real.”